


We are

by lululele



Series: winter, spring, summer, fall (in love) [4]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: M/M, because i couldn't stop writing for my own good, featuring renjun the misunderstood unsung wingman, haechan jeno and jaemin as comedic relief, mark the counselor, now with an added epilogue in chenle's pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-23 05:59:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10713609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lululele/pseuds/lululele
Summary: Chenle is keeping a secret, and he’s not particularly good at hiding it.Jisung, for better or worse, remains unaware because his own speculative mind is his worst enemy.What are they anyway?Lovers? Best friends? Roommates who sometimes go on dates?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the last part a.k.a an experiment on how many overused romance tropes I can squeeze into 6k words. You’ve been warned.

Cold. The autumn wind propels his feet forward, guiding him out of the alley with each flap of his hoodie against the back of his head. It spreads down to a breeze on the sidewalk—he quickly takes his hand out of his pocket to brush the stray hair into place. Going out in a single layer of sweater and jeans is a miscalculation. Why did he change out of his school uniform again? Jisung briefly wonders if he could run back to grab a jacket and make it in time. Not possible, apparently, as indicated by the loud call for his name.

Chenle skids to a stop beside him, holding onto his arm for support. “Did you wait for long?” he gasps out in short breaths.

“No.” Seeing the boy look up at him, sweat dotting his forehead and chest heaving with exertion, Jisung doesn’t feel so cold anymore. “Did you run all the way from school?”

“The teacher held us up. I didn’t want to be late.” The backpack straps are slipping down his shoulders. Chenle adjusts them back into position and resumes walking.

Jisung shakes his head and trails behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me? I told you I’d be dropping by the dorm, I could’ve waited before leaving.”

Chenle stops again to tilt his body back. “That won’t do,” he argues. Once they’re side to side a smile grazes his face and he continues, “I want to meet you as fast as possible.”

Right. Jisung is definitely a whole lot warmer now. He doesn’t know which is more concerning; Chenle being able to say that kind of things as if it’s nothing out of ordinary, or how much it affects him every single time. Then again, even when they were still just friends Chenle had no problem expressing his affection in a way that may invoke misunderstanding. And that applies not only to Jisung, but practically everyone in the dorm. He shudders, recalling that one time he almost thought Chenle had a crush on Mark.

“You see me everyday,” mutters Jisung once his giddiness subsides.

“Yeah, but we haven’t played outside for so long. It’s nearing the end of year, you’ll have your high school entrance exams, I’ll be doing my year-end exams, and who knows when will be the next time we can go out together again.”

He represses a groan at the mention of his upcoming entrance examination. It’s true that they have been spending less time together. Nowadays Jisung usually goes home later than Chenle, and in the short period between school and sleep he’s left with a stack of homework and exercise to complete, replacing what used to be their daily session of gaming or anime marathon.

Emboldened by his frustration, he grabs Chenle’s hand and intertwines their fingers. “Today’s a date, then?”

Chenle barely twitches. Jisung joyfully tightens his grip. The first time he gathered enough courage to take Chenle’s hand in public, the boy jolted like he was a piece of hot coal. They stood clouded in awkward silence until Chenle gingerly coiled his pinky around Jisung’s thumb as an apology. He still pokes fun at the incident occasionally. (The gesture sent butterflies in his stomach into a wild frenzy, but Chenle doesn’t need to know that.)

Jisung would have never thought Chenle, with all the ways he managed to invade his personal space, would be the one to shy away from a simple hand holding. He has no problem spouting embarrassing things, feeding him, hugging him, clinging to him, linking arms and doing other privacy invading acts; yet whenever Jisung tries to hold his hand, he would inevitably tense up before easing into the touch. Not used to it, he said. All the more reason for Jisung to keep trying.

“If you say so,” the boy softly replies.

Practice does make perfect, Jisung hums in his mind as he feels Chenle squeezing back.

 

The plan was to go home once the clock strikes nine. Somehow dinner and a movie turns into dinner and two movies and arcade and supper. They miss the last train by two minutes and are ushered out of the station by the patrolling guard for making too much noise. Jisung puts the full blame on Chenle’s inhuman shrieks, even though his own cheeks are sore from laughing.

“It’s because you’re a glutton,” he jabs, swivelling away from Chenle’s oncoming slap.

A smack lands behind his legs and Jisung stumbles, the weight of Chenle’s bag too heavy for his unsuspecting knees.

“You ate two servings,” giggles Chenle, the annoyed tint in his voice pushed over by the successful attack. “And you said you weren’t hungry.”

“I’m a tall, growing youth. I need a lot of food. What’s your excuse?”

“Yah, you brat!”

Ever since he overtook Mark and officially became the tallest student in the dorm, Jisung rarely misses an opportunity to take a dig at his friends’ height. Except for Renjun. He knows better than to mess with that one. Jisung never even thought about or wished for his growth spurt. Nevertheless, since it happened anyway, he could appreciate the teasing privilege that comes with the package. Taking his age into account, Chenle is in no way short. However, it’s also a fact that he tiptoes whenever he wants to whisper to Jisung, and that’s something that will always give him a certain kind of glee. He could simply lean down and make it easier for him, but where’s the fun in that?

Jisung raises his shoulders when droplets of water flick his nape. He turns around to accuse the culprit and sees Chenle stomping towards him with his uniform jacket held across his head.

“Run!” he yells at Jisung, giving him the other sleeve to share the cover.

They take shelter under the nearby bus stop, huddled in a corner with the only dry seats. The moment they slump down the chairs, thunder strikes and the downpour truly starts. Jisung shakes his arms and legs to fling away the wetness on his clothes. It doesn’t do much to deter the chill slowly creeping upon his skin. Chenle isn’t faring much better—with his outer layer completely drenched he’s down to a single white shirt, and Jisung knows their uniform is not exactly made out of the warmest material.

The boy hangs his jacket on the back of his seat and starts rummaging his bag. He takes out a grey bundle and passes it to Jisung. “Here, wear this.”

Jisung unrolls it and lets out a confused huff. “Isn’t this mine?”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you have this?” He hasn’t seen it for some time. Actually, he even forgot he had it. “Was it with you all this time?”

Chenle stops breathing into his hands and opts to rub them together. “You’re the one who lent it to me.”

“I did? But don’t you have your own?”

He swivels away, mumbling something about Jisung not remembering. The words are swallowed in the midst of the splashing rain.

“What? I can’t hear you, it’s too loud.”

Chenle hisses and snatches the scarf. “I like yours better, alright. Now wear it, you’re shivering.” He wraps it around Jisung and ties the edges into a ribbon over his mouth.

Jisung wiggles out of his restrain and gives him an unimpressed gaze. “Right. Like you’re not freezing. Look, you’re making the whole bench shake.”

“It’s obviously shaking because of you.”

No point in arguing, Jisung decides. Once it starts they can go on for hours, usually until someone else snaps and tells them to shut up. He slips the right half of the scarf around Chenle’s shoulder and shifts closer to him. “Let’s share, since you like it so much.”

Chenle throws a light punch to Jisung’s thigh, adding on two more when he hears the other’s muffled snorts. “You’re bad. You’re so bad. Jisung Park is a bad person. Bad, bad!” His rant only serves to fuel Jisung’s laughter and soon he’s struggling to shove him away.

Still guffawing, Jisung quickly slings his arm across Chenle’s back to grip him by the shoulder and stop his trashing. He didn’t put much thought into the action and finds himself draped over Chenle, practically hugging him. The boy goes rigid in his arm. The shock is contagious because Jisung is now panicking over what to do. This is far from the first time they’ve hugged—Chenle does that fairly often—but it’s the most contact Jisung has ever initiated ever since they... Well, what are they anyway?

Of course he has thought about doing what people dub as public display of affections. Yet still. It took him a month for a successful attempt at holding hands, and another two months for Chenle to reciprocate normally. _This_ is a big leap.

As if sensing his apprehension, Chenle slowly relaxes and oh so very slightly leans onto him. Jisung clamps down on his lips. He’s afraid that should he open his mouth, his heart will leap out of his throat.

“It’s warm,” Chenle tells him, cheeks tinted pink and ears ablaze.

Jisung doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s just as flushed.

“Yeah.”

A few strands of hair tickle at his jaw—that’s how close they are right now. He can faintly smell Chenle’s citrus cologne, mingling with the earthy scent brought forth by the rain. It’s a very pleasant mix.

Jisung swallows back a remark on how nice he thinks the other smells, realising at the last second just how creepy that would sound. He sneaks a glimpse at Chenle’s face. In this position he can only see the tip of his nose and his eyelashes peeking out from underneath the thick bangs. It takes a minute to register, courtesy of his regulated breathing and the way his body sags against him, that the boy is sleeping. He has to hold in his chuckle.

The rain isn’t looking like it would let up anytime soon and he’s also starting to feel a little drowsy, so Jisung leans all his weight into the chair and rests his cheek on top of Chenle’s head. He inhales deeply as he closes his eyes, relishing the fragrance and smiling into the pink locks.

 

* * *

 

Something is chasing him. The dark, damp cave he’s trapped in seems to go on forever. No matter how fast he runs, the end is always out of reach. His right arm is entirely numb—whatever thing is after him must have gotten to it. He can hear the intangible noise approaching alarmingly close. It’s now hissing right into his ear. In a split second, the ground below him crumbles and he dives into a free fall. A violent burst of light assaults his senses. He tears his eyes open.

Haechan’s owlish face stares right back at him. Jisung screams.

A sudden clamour snaps his attention to the side. Jaemin and Jeno are doubled up in laughter, the latter maintaining a shaky hold on his phone aimed at Jisung’s direction. A few steps beside them is Renjun, grinning so widely Jisung can see the the gum line of his pointy canine tooth.

The dead weight on his shoulder begins to stir and Jisung gains enough consciousness to remember the events taking place the prior night. Nevertheless, he still lacks an explanation on what exactly led him to this current situation.

“The sleeping beauties are finally awake,” Jaemin sniggers after he’s done gathering his breath. “Prince charming was just about to give you a kiss.”

Jisung immediately gapes at Haechan, scandalised. The other looks just as offended by the accusation.

“Do you think I’d put my precious luscious lips anywhere near yours?” scoffs Haechan.

The mental image runs a horrifying shiver down Jisung’s stiff body. He rotates his neck and produces a couple of satisfying cracks, but when he tries to propel his waist he finds out his right arm is completely dead. The cause is currently curled up on his side, face buried in his knees and hands around his head, ignoring Renjun’s tugging.

“If you’re not up on the count of five I’ll really get Haechan to kiss you.”

The stubborn ball unfurls into a very alert Chenle before Renjun can even utter another syllable.

“I’m up! I’m awake!” He sits up and raises his hand, back as straight as a ramrod and eyes opened wide.

Haechan observes the exchange in contempt. “Seriously, what makes you guys think I’d ever want to? This is psychological bullying. I should’ve just let you continue sleeping on the street.”

“Yeah, about that,” Jeno interjects, “why did you two sleep in a bus stop?”

They stare at one another before Chenle turns to face the others and starts recounting, “We hung out really late last night. There was no more train so we had to walk home, but it rained suddenly so we took shelter here. I don’t know how long we waited but it was still raining when I fell asleep.”

“You were out like a light, drooling and all,” Jisung helpfully supplies. His reward is a pinch on the thigh. “Ouch! I’m just speaking the truth here! Look at the patch on my shirt and tell me that’s not a drool mark,” he yowls, thrusting his now mobile shoulder at Chenle.

Ignoring their squabble, Jaemin unlocks his phone to type up a text. “Well, that’s definitely not as intriguing as the narrative the old lady came up with.”

“What?”

“This kind granny saw you guys and called our dorm,” Renjun explains as he flips the tag attached to Chenle’s backpack. Inside the clear plastic sleeve is a card with their building address and phone number, slotted in aeons ago when Chenle had yet to memorise them in case he ever got lost again. “She thought you were brothers running away from home.”

“Either that or a pair of eloping lovers,” Jaemin adds.

Jisung feels his tummy flip. Beside him, Chenle freezes.

Haechan shakes his head. “She’s got quite the overactive imagination. I think Mark had a mini heart attack during the call listening to her theories.”

The mention of Mark’s name gives Jeno a reminder. “Did anyone update him on the situation? He was going to ask for permission to skip basketball practice to pick up these two.”

“What’s the point of waking up the whole house if he’s going to do that? The moment I see him I’ll drag him back to school.”

“It’s okay, I messaged him,” Jaemin tells Haechan, showing him the conversation on his screen. “Sent some pictures too.”

They scroll through the images and a playful grin grows on Jaemin’s face. “I have to say, they did look the part. That pose is something straight out of a romance drama.”

Haechan looks on thoughtfully. He’s going to say something and Jisung has a strong suspicion he won’t be ready for what’s coming out of that mouth. With increasing dread, he watches in slow motion as Haechan begins to speak.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask, are you two—”

“Wow!”

The uncharacteristic loud cry is emitted by Renjun. He’s the portrayal of a deer in headlights under everyone’s bewildered stare. “I.. left the tap running! Haha! Let’s head back now, before the floor gets flooded!”

Renjun swings his arms around Haechan and Jaemin and quickly power walks, pushing along the other two. He beckons for the rest to follow and Jeno strides after them, throwing worried questions about the supposedly running tap. That leaves Chenle and a very puzzled Jisung trailing a distance behind.

Did Renjun just cover for them? Does that mean he knows? Did Chenle tell him? But what exactly does he know? Had Haechan finished the question Jisung suspected he was going to ask, even he wouldn’t know what to answer.

He glances at Chenle, hoping to convey his arising confusion. The other boy gives him a shrug and nudges his arm.

“C’mon, they’re getting further away,” Chenle notes, quickening his steps.

Jisung gazes at his advancing back and traipses forward with a quiet sigh. Maybe later.

 

What he has forgotten is that Saturday no longer means he could take a break from school. Jisung trudges through his extra classes mulling over their relationship status, or lack thereof. He missed the chance to talk about it this morning and he can’t think of a way to bring up the topic. How does one go about striking up such a conversation with the person they’re sort of dating?

They’ve never really discussed it before. At first Jisung thought Chenle was just shy, like himself. However, a few occasions have been giving him some doubts recently. The way he reacted when Jaemin mentioned the suggestion about them being ‘lovers’, for example. Jisung too, was taken aback, but it was incomparable to the way Chenle noticeably paled.

A voice forces its way into his mind. What if this has been all one-sided on his part, and Chenle only goes along because he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship? That actually doesn’t sound entirely implausible. After all, he was the one to ask him out without any preamble. Maybe he caught Chenle off-guard and the boy accepted out of conscience. It would explain his hesitancy towards Jisung’s touch. Maybe he secretly hates it.

Jisung smacks himself to stop the ugly thoughts from rearing inside his head. This is Chenle, someone who thrives off human contact and couldn’t keep his hands to himself around those he’s close with. Especially Jisung. Although the other boy has been behaving more reserved and less touchy lately, he’s probably just being paranoid. Right?

Except maybe he’s not.

The sight that greets him at home puts a damper on his already long day. Renjun and Chenle are lounging on the couch, wearing matching smiles and looking generally the opposite of what Jisung is currently feeling. The cherry on top is not the offending hand nuzzling at Chenle’s cheek, but the way he smiles at Renjun’s gesture. No trace of discomfort or reluctance whatsoever.

Jisung declares his entry by stomping across the floor. Both of them turn around in unison.

“You’re back,” Renjun chirps a bit too enthusiastically. Jisung doesn’t miss the stealthy move he made to hide the papers on the table.

Chenle shoots up from the couch to block his view, horribly failing at being furtive. “How was class?”

“Fine.” He tries to peek over Chenle’s shoulder but the boy immediately grabs and hauls him to the kitchen.

“Have you eaten? You must be hungry, right? Let’s cook some ramen, I’m starving too.” He opens the cupboard and with practised ease slides out two plastic packets. “Which flavour do you want?”

“Uh, spicy chicken?”

Without wasting a single second Chenle picks out a pot, fills it with hot water and lights up the stove. Using food as a distraction might have worked any other time. Jisung knows better than to let the busy act fool him.

He wipes a bowl from the dish rack and passes it to Chenle, trying to sound casual when he asks, “What were you guys doing just now?”

“Hm? Oh, Renjun was helping me with my homework.”

“Homework?”

“Yeah, there were some words I couldn’t understand so I asked him to translate them. He’s like a walking dictionary.”

He was only able to get a quick scan of the table, yet Jisung doesn’t recall spotting any writing on the scattered sheets, nor a single textbook for that matter. What he saw seemed like drawings and doodles instead.

“It’s done! Let’s eat.”

Are you lying to me? Is what he really wants to say. Looking at the other’s smiling face, his throat clogs up and the only word he can articulate is “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

The more he tries to convince himself that his speculations are unfounded, the harder Chenle makes it for him to stay unconcerned. Jisung is wholly positive the other boy is avoiding him. He’s been spending most of his time cooped up in Renjun’s room, using their approaching exams as an excuse.

Today is no different. Merely minutes after Jisung was back from school, Chenle has already climbed down from his bed to walk out of their room with a paper bag clutched in his hands.

"Going to study with Renjun again?"

"Yes."

"Can I join?"

"No!" The outright rejection surprises them both. Chenle releases his grip on the knob to scratch at his ear. "I mean, our syllabuses are totally different. I don't think there's anything you can learn from us. You should focus on your own assignments." He stretches his hand to pat Jisung's knee and proceeds to slink away without waiting for a response.

So basically, he's not welcomed. Jisung is not even going to pretend that doesn't hurt.

After wallowing in stunned silence for who knows how long, he decides he needs to get some fresh air. Being alone in the room is suffocating. Jisung grabs whatever books he can gather in his arms and makes his way to the balcony. The moment the night breeze splashes his face, he flops down feebly into the deckchair.

"Are you alright?"

Despite not noticing the presence of another person when he lumbered past the sliding glass door, Jisung can't bring himself to be shocked when he hardly has enough energy to lift a finger. Across the tiny wooden desk sits Mark, papers spread out atop of his folded legs. One of his earphones is unplugged, presumably to listen to Jisung's yet to be uttered reply.

"No."

The combination of his languid body, the stack of books he’s holding and his expression impels Mark to set aside his own stuff and give Jisung his full attention. “Maybe I can help. What’s the problem?”

It might be his sentimental mood putting Jisung on the brink of tearing up. Here’s Mark, a third year highschool student preparing for his college entrance examinations with scarcely enough time for himself, offering his aid to an intruder of his precious study period.

Jisung lurches forward, folding his hands and propping his elbows on his knees.

“Let’s say we have two parties. I'll call them A and B. A likes B and A thinks that B likes him back. They even went on a few dates, but recently B keeps avoiding A by spending more and more time with C. It’s not like A thinks there’s something going on between B and C, really, it’s just—A is afraid there might be a huge misunderstanding and B never actually liked him that way. Either that, or B is trying to pretend nothing ever happened between them because he realises this thing with A is not what he wants. A isn’t sure which one is worse.”

Mark stares at him for a long, long time before he grimly says, “Is that how they word math questions nowadays?”

For three times Jisung repeats the sentence in his mind, trying to discern the meaning. He regrets ever feeling touched at Mark’s offer. “You know what, forget it.”

“Hey, wait, I was just kidding!” Mark scrambles off of his chair, jumping over the desk and tripping on books in his haste to stop Jisung from leaving.

After a ton of apologies and convincing, he manages to coax Jisung back to his seat.

“Can I ask something?” He starts carefully.

Jisung corks his head.

“Are A and B together?”

“Yes. Kind of. Maybe.” Jisung runs a hand through his hair, groaning, “At least that’s what A thought.”

“What about B?”

“Huh?”

“What does B think? Everything you’ve told me is in A’s point of view. It doesn’t sound like he has any idea on what B is really thinking. For all A knows, B might be taking the situation in a completely different way.”

A surge of wind blasts past them through the railings. Along with it, Jisung lulls his sight to the night sky, letting Mark’s words sink in.

 

* * *

 

“Morning.”

Chenle stops drying his hair, returning the greeting by waving his towel. “Why are you up so early? Is the school giving additional lessons on Sunday?”

“No.” Jisung was too busy going over imaginary conversations to have much sleep last night. It’s a small price to pay to prepare himself for the possible consequences. “Do you have time to talk?”

There’s a short delay before Chenle nods his head. Jisung pats the space beside him, motioning for the other to sit down.

“What is it?”

He takes a deep breath.

“First of all, I’m sorry if I’ve done things that made you uncomfortable. I don’t want to make you feel like I’m forcing you into something you never wished for. I’m ready to hear whatever you want to say, so please be honest with me.”

Chenle’s expression contorts in a jumble of confusion and concern. “What are you talking about?”

“Lately it feels like you’re pushing me away.” Jisung sinks his nails into the flesh of his arms, using the sting as a physical spur to go on. “If you need some distance, I understand. I just hope we can still remain as friends. Although I want us to be more than that.”

Outside the window the sun rises above a row of dark clouds, coating the room in warm yellow. He holds back on the urge to reach for Chenle’s hand.

“I really, really like you. I’ve never even told you that.”

At first there is only silence. Jisung keeps his sight trained on the pattern of his blanket, even when the bunk creaks and shakes as Chenle climbs up the ladder to his bed. The sound of rustling paper fills the air, and then something soft lands across his knees. His fingers move on their own accord to caress the material in awe.

Sewn in black against a light grey background are the words ‘YOU CAN DO IT’, punctuated by an exclamation mark. Above the block letters sits his favourite pokemon, and perched on snorlax’s belly is a pikachu.

“It’s still not finished,” Chenle tells him. “I wanted to give it to you before the exams start. Something to lift up your spirit, because you looked so stressed out.” He drapes the cloth around Jisung’s neck and uses it to tug him forward. “Since I’m always using your scarf, I thought it’d be nice to make you a new one.”

Jisung slowly raises his face. Chenle knocks their foreheads together and keeps them in that position until Jisung dares to look up again.

“You know I’m bad at drawing. If Renjun hadn’t helped me, I can’t even imagine what kind of disaster this thing would end up looking like.” He flaps the fabric, pinching away a stray thread when he spots one. “This was supposed to be surprise, you know. I had to hide in Renjun’s room to continue sewing whenever you were home.”

Done with his explanation, Chenle releases his grip on the scarf. Jisung slips it off his neck and lifts up the corners to get a better look of the whole picture.

“Is that a heart?” He’s referring to the red blob held up high in pikachu’s paws. It appears as though the yellow monster is giving it away to snorlax.

“What else can it be?” Of course Jisung would unknowingly single out the only thing Chenle drew by himself. All because the boy was too shy to tell Renjun he wanted to put a heart.

“Does that mean you like me too?”

Chenle flushes. Reckoning Jisung is now back to his usual self and is teasing him, he swats away the scarf curtaining him from view, ready to start bantering. What he sees instead is something so far out of his expectation it startles him

“Are you crying?” He blurts out, half in disbelief.

Jisung spins to the wall in an attempt to hide his face, frantically wiping the moisture from his eyes.

“Jisung.”

The call goes ignored. Undeterred, Chenle grabs two fistfuls of his shirt and pulls in earnest. “Jisung!”

A little more in control of his tear glands, Jisung turns around after sniffing for one last time. “What?”

His surrounding fades into a blur as he falls on his back, his body hitting the bed with the force of two people. The impact has him feeling rather lightheaded, although it could also very well be due to the person now curled on top of him. Carefully, tentatively, he rests his arms around the other boy’s frame.

“You’re such a crybaby.” Chenle’s breath is hot and ticklish against his skin.

“M’not,” he retorts, clutching the boy tighter to him.

“You are,” Chenle huffs. He tilts up his head and props his chin on Jisung’s chest. “It’s okay though. I still like you a lot.”

Jisung averts his eyes away, blinking back the tears pricking at them. “You’ve said it now. You can’t take it back. I’ll have everyone know so they can serve as my witness.”

A perplexed pout makes its way to Chenle’s face. “I thought you didn’t want them to know.”

Jisung mirrors his bewilderment. “What makes you think so?”

The other boy plops his head sideways, cheek squished against Jisung’s shoulder. “I kind of spilled everything to Renjun the day after our first date. Everyone else still hasn’t found out so I thought you wanted to keep it a secret from them.”

His heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach. It makes sense now; why Chenle tones down his clingy habits whenever they’re around the others. The reason he gets extra jumpy when the boys tease them over how close they are. Everything has been for his sake, all along. “And you were okay with that?”

Chenle shrugs. “You’ve known them since what, five years ago? You guys practically grew up together. I get if it feels weird to tell them you’re dating another guy.”

“That’s because I wasn’t sure if we’re really dating.” Jisung has to stop speaking for a moment to compose himself. He couldn’t conceal the tremble in his voice. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this?”

Chenle shifts in Jisung’s arms, snuggling into the crook of his neck. “I don’t know. I guess I’m a little scared too.”

It’s a bittersweet emotion, to be guilty and grateful at the same time.

“How do you think they’ll react,” mumbles Chenle into his collar.

He strengthens his embrace around the boy. “I think it’s going to be just fine.”

Chenle tightens his grip on Jisung’s shirt, knuckles digging uneven bumps into his shoulder blades.

Jisung has never imagined there would come a day he'd risk sounding like a romance cliché, and yet there he goes, thinking they fit like puzzle pieces. He never ever wants to let go.

 

* * *

 

Jisung rushes out of the elevator to where his friends are waiting.

“I’m ready now, sorry,” he gasps, perspiring in spite of the chilly weather. “Let’s go.”

They jest around for a while more until Mark reminds them of the time, herding the group to pick up their pace. Jisung catches his reflection as they walk past a display window, looking like the odd one out in his different set of uniform.

Jeno taps his backpack. “What did you forget?”

“Huh? Oh, this.” He unfolds the piece of cloth clutched in his hand.

“That’s a very nice scarf you’ve got,” Jaemin chuckles, stepping closer to observe the design.

Ducking his head to do the same, Jisung smiles to himself. “Thanks. Chenle made it for me.”

Both Jeno and Jaemin respond with an impressed hoot.

“Did you also make this?” Jeno points to the knitted grey scarf Chenle is bundled in.

The latter wiggles his face above the folds of wool to reply. “I didn’t. This is Jisung’s old scarf.”

Haechan—who has been listening in on their conversation since Jaemin’s compliment—throws in his usual snide remark, “What are you, boyfriends?” He’s not expecting a serious answer, so when he gets one from Jisung, he has to make sure if he heard correctly.

“Am I hearing voices, or did you really just say ‘ _yes we are_ ’?”

“That’s right.”

Chenle has stopped walking to look at Jisung with his eyes wide open. Jisung slips his hand down the boy’s arm and clasps his hand, noting how cold it is.

“Congratulations,” cuts Mark through the silence. He reaches over to pat them both on their shoulders and shares a knowing smile with Jisung.

Like the snap of a finger, the rest of them—sans Renjun—breaks into an uproar. Jeno bursts out laughing with his arm slung around Jaemin, who is clapping excitedly at Haechan, who descends to the ground in a dramatic wail. Renjun and Mark watch on in slight alarm, looking equally as confused as Jisung and Chenle.

“No chores, for a whole week!” exclaims Jaemin, giving Jeno a high-five.

“Free lunch, for a whole week!” Jeno follows up with a fist bump, his eyes disappearing from how hard he’s grinning.

Haechan recovers from his slump and pretends not to hear them. He dusts off his pants in an act of nonchalance. “Faster, we’re gonna be late,” he addresses Mark and only Mark, using him as a distraction.

“I want curry rice for today.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have the chicken soup.”

The two continue humming a list of food to Haechan, despite him resolutely covering his ears while speeding away.

Jisung remains speechless throughout the whole ordeal, because—did his friends really make a bet on them? He joins Chenle on the quest for a clarification by staring at Renjun.

“I have absolutely nothing to do with whatever just happened,” blabbers Renjun before they can start cornering him. He raises his arms and walks backwards, as if in retreat.

It’s just the two of them now and Jisung is whelmed by a wave of deja vu. This time, however, he’s got all the answers he needs.

“Let’s go.” He tugs them forward. Chenle’s eyes drop to their connected hands. Jisung follows his sight.

The difference in size means he could barely see the tips of Chenle’s fingers peeking from underneath his hold. They’re a bright pink contrast against his skin, just like the tips of his ears. Jisung has always been fascinated by the way they colour in the cold.

Chenle pulls him out of his trance by swinging their hands together. He beams at Jisung, brighter than the sun itself.

After all this time, it still takes his breath away.

Jisung comes to a quiet acceptance that perhaps, since the very first moment he saw that smile, he’s been left with no other option but to fall.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An extra epilogue/prologue, sort of an accompaniment fic to [Lobsterman](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10194485) (first part of the series). It's not a must, but this will make more sense if you've read that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knowww I said this series was over but this idea suddenly came and refused to leave me alone so here goes a little something quick in Chenle's pov :'D

His big day started out very smoothly. The plane was on time, the meal unexpectedly delicious, and he even managed to squeeze in some sleep during the two-hour flight. Thanks to the student visa, he went through the immigration in a flash and upon reaching the designated baggage pick-up tray immediately spotted his luggage—a huge, custom made black briefcase with his name painted on in white. His mother had insisted on it, much to his embarrassment and secret appreciation (it was a major improvement from the self portrait phone case he used to own years back). Most of the people in this country probably wouldn't be able to read the characters, so at least he didn't have to worry about it here.

When he stepped out of the arrival gate, a middle-aged man he recognised as the dorm manager waved him over. He promptly followed the man to his car and throughout the drive, they talked about his new school and living arrangement. It was a relief that the man spoke in his native language, because he wouldn't have been able to catch half of what was said otherwise. Three months of preparatory classes had taught him a basic understanding of Korean, but having to suddenly communicate with a native is another thing.

They stopped in front of a colourful multi-storey building. He was to be staying on the fifth floor—the highest floor—with six other boys from the same school. Nobody was there to answer the door, however. The dorm manager apologised for forgetting to inform them of his arrival, but he honestly thought it was for the better. Having lived together with his family for his whole life, he was undoubtedly nervous about this new change. He could appreciate the time alone to mentally prepare himself.

The room he was assigned to was smaller than the one he had back in his own home. He didn't pay much thought into it, transfixed by the bunk bed at the corner of the room. As a kid, he had always wanted to sleep in one of those. Especially the top bunk.

Once the manager bid his goodbye, he unleashed his excitement and leaped up onto his bed, rolling and flopping around. He reached out to the ceiling, laughing giddily to himself.

"Hello, my name is Zhong Chenle. Nice to meet you!"

Clucking his tongue at the unnatural pronunciation, he rehearsed the line a few more times until it sounded acceptable to his ears. His phone, now connected to the dorm wifi, vibrated continuously beside him. After spending some time replying to his parents' texts, he glanced at his luggage taking up space on the floor.

He really should start unpacking before his roommate got back. He also really didn't feel like doing it. Not when the world outside was calling out to him from the gap of the window.

His eyes drifted towards the desk. The dorm manager had left him with a set of keys and an area map. Without pondering any longer, he shoved the two items in his backpack and headed out ready to explore.

Everything that day had gone unnervingly smooth so far; he should have known something was bound to go wrong at some point.

 

After an hour of walking and sightseeing, the last fifteen minutes of which he spent going around in circles, he had to accept the reality that he was lost in the middle of a foreign country. His phone battery was running out and the GPS refused to work offline. To make matters worse, he was starting to freeze because he left his coat back in the dorm. He should have bought a phone card at the airport. He should have taken out some money from the envelope deep inside his luggage. So many convenience stores offering tourist cards around him, and he could only mourn wistfully at his lack of local currency and foresight.

He was trying to guess his location on the map he could hardly read when someone sat down on the bench he was occupying. It was a boy probably around his age, chomping on hot dogs without a care in the world. He wanted to look away because the sight was making him hungry, but a tiny yellowish puff mesmerized him into staring. Was that a popcorn? With the way he was demolishing those hot dogs, he could somehow fathom why a piece of popcorn would get tangled in his hair.

The subtle bobbing of the popcorn proved to be too difficult to tear his eyes from. The boy turned his head towards him and he failed to react in time. He was contemplating on telling him about the popcorn when a violent shiver caught him off-guard. His hands clenched involuntarily, crushing the map in his grip.

Great. As if it wasn't already indecipherable.

Chenle pressed down the paper in a futile act to bring back its former state. He must have looked pitiful enough for the boy to strike a conversation with him.

"Excuse me, are you lost?"

He had to repeat and translate the words in his mind. Once he grasped the meaning, he muttered an affirmative answer and bashfully lowered his face. The boy kindly offered to help, and _oh_ , he had a really cute smile. Curbing the thought just as swiftly as it came, he unlocked his dying phone to search for a screenshot of his new address. As fate would have it, the boy told him he lived in the same place. Chenle couldn’t keep from laughing. His lucky stars must have lined up for this chance encounter, because really, what are the odds.

He did his introduction as practised and shook hands with the boy. His fingers were greasy from the hot dogs, which was a little gross, but he’d let it go this time because they were warm and welcoming. The boy apparently shared a name with footballer Park Jisung, not that Chenle knew who that was. He made a mental note to look him up later.

Jisung stood up, ready to guide him back, and Chenle scrambled to his feet. He shouldn’t miss this chance. After all, he was no longer just a random stranger. It should be fine.

He went up to Jisung and quickly freed the popcorn from its accidental prison. Satisfied, he held up the misplaced snack that had been weighing on his mind.

“You have popcorn in your hair,” he cheerfully told Jisung, who appeared to be rather shaken by the revelation. God, even his shocked face is adorable.

He probably shouldn’t have giggled, but seeing Jisung frantically ruffle at his hair was too amusing. Chenle consoled the morbidly embarrassed boy by repeatedly telling him it was okay, rubbing his arm for a good measure. The last move seemed to work on him—Jisung straightened up immediately and coughed into his fist.

“Thank you for telling me about, uh, the popcorn. My friends didn’t say anything.” He was scowling as he spoke, and Chenle should really stop finding every little thing he did cute.

“No problem.” He shook his head while Jisung nodded in response.

“Shall we go now?”

Instead of a yes, what came out of him was a sneeze so intense it wobbled his footing. Chenle groaned into his hands. There wasn’t any snot, thankfully, or else he would have been buried with at least quadruple the shame Jisung had felt earlier.

When he looked up to apologise, he was met with a handful of soft grey wool. He glanced at Jisung’s now bared neck and back at the scarf presented to him. Chenle waved his hands in refusal. “No, no, no. It’s alright.”

Jisung pressed the scarf into his arms. “It’s okay, take it. I think you need it more than I do.” He let go with a smile and turned around after prompting Chenle to follow him.

The warmth it brought him was far too tempting to resist. Chenle blanketed his body with the scarf, his heartbeat picking up.

So, Jisung was not only cute. He was also a little bit cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay now it's most definitely over lol  
> thank you once again for sticking till the end <333

**Author's Note:**

> It’s finally over omg SORRY to y’all who were expecting more comedy and lighthearted stuff I didn’t know what urged me to dip my toe into the angst lane when I’m fully aware of how hard it is for me to write. Hopefully the fluff at the first and last parts can make up for it lol (also forgive me that this took almost a month to update, I had a huge project and could only write bits and pieces here and there, probably why this fic is rather disjointed :( )
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone who’s been following this series, leaving kudos and bookmarks and wonderful, wonderful comments. I really appreciate each and every single one of your message <3
> 
> To end this with something cute, skip to 2:40 if you wanna see chenle tiptoeing to whisper at jisung :D  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=murfNPaOPro


End file.
